


All of the Things That We Couldn't Before

by celeste9



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Episode Tag, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: Last night, Macy had been happy, and tired, and content to kiss Harry and say goodnight outside her bedroom door.But that was last night.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 16
Kudos: 94





	All of the Things That We Couldn't Before

**Author's Note:**

> Post 2x18. Title from One Republic.

It was early when Macy woke, judging by the level of light outside her curtains. She buried her face in her pillow for a second, contemplating going back to sleep, then stretched lengthwise and decided there was no point. She reached one hand out, considering the empty, cold other half of the mattress, and thought that it would have been nice if it hadn’t been empty and cold.

Which made her think about Harry, and she smiled to herself, remembering the night before. It felt almost like a dream, a hazy glow of perfection that surely must exist only in her head. Then she remembered the feel of Harry’s hand in hers, the press of his palm against her back, the warmth of his body so close to hers. She closed her eyes and could feel their cheeks pressed together, the brush of his soft hair, the clean smell of him. She remembered how his lips had felt against hers and the heat building in her body and knew she could never have imagined it quite like that.

Speaking of heat, Macy rolled her hips against the mattress and told herself to calm down. No need to be ridiculous.

Well, that was the wrong word. But she didn’t really need to be imagining it when the real thing was so close.

And absolutely attainable.

They had talked last night on the porch, well into the night. It was strange, maybe, that Macy had liked that as much as the dancing, and the kissing. She liked how Harry listened, how he understood and was kind, and how it was okay to tell him things she had always been afraid to admit outside of her own head. They had leaned against each other, pressed together shoulder to hip, and Harry had touched her knee, and stroked the back of her neck, and it had been…

Right. Like everything she wanted.

The heat hadn’t exactly gone away but it had simmered, low, and it had taken so long to get there, and it had been so complicated, that there was still a part of her that worried about doing the wrong thing, taking the wrong step. But mostly she had felt contentment in where they were, and she had been…

Okay, she’d been tired. She guessed she had almost died (again), and so had Harry. So when Harry had walked her inside, it had felt right to kiss him outside her door and let him say goodnight.

Now, Macy thought, it felt right to want something more.

She washed and dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, smiling goofily at her reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t like they weren’t in danger, like they didn’t have Julian looming over them, but, damn, she was happy. She wasn’t sure she had ever felt quite like this before, so free, and she was determined to let herself enjoy it, even if it was only for a morning.

Macy could smell the scones before she could see them, the aroma wafting down the hallway. She breathed in happily, and thus was unsurprised to find that Harry was in the kitchen, dressed casually in a cozy sweater and jeans. He was just setting the last scone onto a platter on the counter when he turned his head and saw her watching him.

He gave her that smile of his, soft and fond, that Macy was realizing he’d given her a lot before she figured out what it meant. He held the platter towards her. “Scone?”

Macy giggled, not really meaning to, but unable to stop herself.

Harry put the platter down on the table, looking slightly offended. “You could just say no. No need to laugh.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked down, like he was trying to figure out if there was something off about the scones.

“It’s not the scones, it’s just… you.”

“I hardly see how that’s better.”

“No, Harry, I…” Macy stepped towards him, still laughing a little, knowing by his face that he was mostly amused and teasing her rather than actually hurt. “Yesterday you didn’t remember us, and the day before that you almost died, and now this morning you’re… baking scones.”

“I find that scones improve any situation,” Harry declared, leaning into Macy’s touch as she settled her hands on his hips. “Besides, it’s far from the worst thing that’s happened to us.”

He sort of had a point, but not really. “Seemed plenty bad enough to me.”

Harry’s eyes went soft and Macy wanted to kiss him. “Perhaps you should have a scone, then. Or some tea?”

“I don’t want a scone, Harry.” She leaned in, nuzzling beneath his ear, and Harry made a soft sound, like a sharp inhale and exhale of breath.

“Macy… I thought we… we weren’t… we said…”

“That was last night. Now it’s this morning, and I think we should. What are we waiting for?”

“Your sisters--”

“Can deal if I want to sleep with our Whitelighter,” Macy said firmly, pressing a kiss to Harry’s jaw, feeling him shudder. “Think they’re kind of expecting it anyway. They can eat the scones while we’re busy.”

Harry laughed against the side of Macy’s face, his hands sliding over her back. “You’re very convincing.”

“Good. I was trying to be.” She kissed him, delighting in the fact that this was a thing she could do now, kiss Harry in the kitchen. She loved the way he practically melted into her, throwing himself into it like he still wasn’t sure it was real and wanted to make every second count at long as he could.

She couldn’t really blame him. They had been doing the maybe yes, maybe no dance around each other for months, and maybe longer than that, if she was honest with herself.

“This is really nice,” she said, Harry’s lips on her neck, that heat rising and rising within her, “but I’d rather we made it to my bed before my sisters find us. They can deal, but I’d rather they didn’t get an eyeful first.”

Harry’s deep laugh reverberated against Macy’s body and that was kind of hot, too. Or maybe she was just super turned on. “I understand completely.” He drew back with one last kiss to the side of her throat, offering her his arm. “May I escort you upstairs?”

“Oh my God,” Macy said, rolling her eyes, but she accepted his arm, lacing hers through the crook of his elbow.

Their walk through the house was remarkably sedate considering all Macy wanted to do was yank that sweater off and explore her way down Harry’s chest with her tongue. Her neck was flushing and she was glad she had never been an obvious blusher. The doors to her sisters’ rooms were still closed and she was grateful for that; she very much wasn’t ashamed but that didn’t mean she wanted to face Mel and Maggie’s smirks and teasing.

She was certain she’d be getting enough of that later on today. Fall in love with your Whitelighter and never hear the end of it.

Or maybe sisters were like that all the time. She hardly knew.

“Do you ever turn off that brain of yours?” Harry asked as they stepped inside Macy’s room, closing the door.

“If I did, we wouldn’t be doing this,” Macy pointed out, circling her arms around Harry’s neck, “because I’d be dead.” When Harry opened his mouth to respond, she covered it with hers, quieting him with a kiss. Then she murmured, “But I’m getting better at ignoring it.”

“Very much appreciated.” Harry kissed her again, open-mouthed, his tongue teasing against hers, and backed her towards the bed. She let herself fall onto it, laughing a little when they bumped their noses awkwardly, and lay all the way back so Harry could crouch over her. She thought she would never tire of him kissing her, deep and thorough, like he was learning the contours of her mouth, and she stroked her fingers up the back of his neck into his short dark hair.

Her body, though, clearly was getting ahead of her. She bent her knee for a little leverage, rocking her hips up, rubbing against Harry, and he chuckled, nipping at her jaw. Too into it to be embarrassed, Macy just watched through lowered eyelids as Harry slunk down, pulling her sweats down and off.

She was glad she’d had the foresight to dress so casually; having as few obstacles as possible to being skin-to-skin with Harry in her bed honestly seemed ideal.

Clearly, though, Macy was thinking too much again because she yelped in surprise at the press of Harry’s tongue to her underwear.

He was looking smug. “Or did you not want that…?”

“No, please,” Macy said, and realized she might be confusing so she reached down to tug at Harry’s hair in what she hoped was a perfectly pointed manner. “Please continue.” She waved her hand. “As you were.”

He laughed again, and Macy really really loved when he laughed, even when it was kind of at her.

That went mostly right out of her mind, though, when Harry tugged her underwear aside to lick up her labia. She gasped, unconsciously pressing herself forward, and tried not to whine when Harry paused to get rid of her briefs altogether.

“You’re gorgeous,” he told her, kissing her between her thighs, and Macy flung her arm over her face to hide the blush he couldn’t see anyway. Or maybe she just needed to not look at him for a second, because this was all very… intense, and okay, she wasn’t a virgin anymore for sure, but she had never experienced anything quite like this.

“Do you want me to slow down?” he asked her, as though he could sense her thoughts. “Or stop?”

Macy breathed in, then out. “No. No, Harry. Please don’t stop.”

He kissed her there again, and Macy shuddered.

Time to focus on sensation and feeling and emotion. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t be very difficult.

She focused on the flat of Harry’s tongue as he licked up, and then lightly kissed her clit. She clutched onto his shoulders, holding him, her nails catching in the threads of his sweater. The sound of it filled the quiet room, slick and wet, as Harry dragged his tongue back and forth. Unthinkingly she pulled him closer, possibly too close, too forcefully, and he grunted faintly and she briefly wondered whether he could breathe.

She eased off but Harry barely moved, spreading her thighs so he could settle more comfortably between them, tongue swiping lower and back up again. “Harry,” she said, and he hummed a little against her, the blowing of his breath against her sensitive flesh making her gasp and clutch him tighter. “God, Harry.”

Macy watched him between her thighs, watched the play of her hands over his shoulders, the back of his neck, into his hair, watched like it wasn’t even her. When he shifted she noticed how firmly he was holding her, the way his fingers dug into the muscle of her thighs, and she felt a rush of excitement at the realization that he was enjoying this, that he was so into the mere act of pleasing her.

Her clit pulsed beneath Harry’s tongue and she was so close, she just needed… she just needed… Harry did something with his tongue that the analytical part of her brain (okay, she could never _quite_ shut it off) was very curious about but mostly she was caught up in the wave of feeling, her breath coming in harsh gasps, her fingers tightening on Harry.

“God,” she said, long and drawn-out, back arching off the bed, her nerve endings tingling almost to the point of being too sensitive, but Harry didn’t pull back. He lavished attention on her until she couldn’t think, until she felt like a pure ball of nerves, crying out, one of Harry’s fingers twisting inside her, and she might have come again, and maybe again, barely having the sense to cover her face with a pillow so her sisters wouldn’t hear her sob, so they wouldn’t hear her hoarse shout of Harry’s name.

Macy barely registered Harry kneeling over her, kissing the side of her face and stroking her hair. He slid his hand beneath her t-shirt, caressing her bare breasts, and Macy shifted, climbing over him so she could kiss him, his hands smoothing over her hips. She could feel how hard he was and that was a bit exhilarating, knowing she hadn’t really even touched him, knowing it was only from kissing her, being with her, pleasuring her.

She tugged at the end of his sweater, wanting to feel his skin. “You have too many clothes on,” she said, and he sat up immediately to help her solve that problem. Macy pulled up his sweater and the undershirt he had on beneath in one motion, smiling when his arms got tangled briefly inside, then threw the shirts onto the floor. Harry surged forward to kiss her, his chest bare against the thin material of her shirt, her breasts pressing between them, then fell back again onto the mattress with Macy on top.

She nuzzled behind his ear and down his jaw, breathing in his aftershave, and kissed down his neck to the sharp jut of his clavicles. He was lean from activity but just a little soft, like he enjoyed his scones and fry-ups, and Macy relished the opportunity to touch every inch of him. He whimpered when she dragged her teeth over his nipple so she did it again, and then on the other side, and considered how extremely pleasant this experimentation would be, discovering the parts of him that made him respond.

When he thrust upwards lightly, Macy remembered that while she might have come multiple times already, Harry was still waiting. She couldn’t stop herself rubbing against him, the friction of his thigh in his jeans against her bare crotch, and she moaned.

“Macy,” Harry gasped, and then he was yanking off her t-shirt, too quickly, catching her hair, and she laughed when she pushed him away to do it herself. “Sorry,” he said a little sheepishly, but Macy was unwilling to complain considering he was leaning up to suck her nipple between his lips, his tongue circling.

They flipped over, Macy on her back, Harry’s knee wedged between her thighs, the pressure as he leaned in _almost_ what she wanted. “Harry, please,” she said. “I really want to feel you.”

He still hadn’t lost his wondering expression, like this whole thing was a gift she was offering that he barely believed he was actually getting. He kissed her, like a promise, or maybe only a tease, and sat back to say, “One moment.”

“You…” Macy started, and then realized he was only taking his pants off. That was acceptable, she decided.

Very, very acceptable, when Harry was bare before her. She dragged her eyes up to his face.

“Do we need… I mean… Can Whitelighters have kids? Or get STDs?”

Harry chuckled lightly. “We don’t get illnesses of any kind but as for the children, I honestly have no idea. Always felt it best not to find out. I may be technically dead, but I’m still a man, you see.”

“Clearly,” Macy said, smirking at Harry’s gasp when she reached to touch him. “Luckily I can fix this problem.” She wriggled just enough so that she could stretch over to the drawer of her bedside table and rummage in it for a moment. Victorious, she settled down again and waved the condom packet.

The arch of Harry’s eyebrow was amused rather than judging but Macy felt defensive anyway. “I had them for… for… You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

“Macy, I don’t care why you have them, I’m just glad you do.”

“I’m always prepared,” Macy said, lips curving up, and Harry smiled down at her to match. She tore the packet open and watched his face as she rolled the condom on, the way he closed his eyes and bit his lip when she touched him, the way the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightened a little as though he were bracing himself still.

Harry met her eyes carefully when he entered her, focused like he thought she might change her mind, or like he was concerned he might hurt her, and Macy wanted to be annoyed but it was only Harry being Harry, thoughtful and kind, and she figured they had plenty of time for fast and rough, if she wanted to know how that felt, too. (A part of her thrilled at the idea of what Harry might be like when he lost control.) For now she was more than content to squeeze her arms around Harry’s back, head extending back into the pillow as he slowly slid inside her, lips parting in an exhale of breath.

He fucked her slowly, too, pulling nearly out and pushing back in again, their mouths meeting, sweat on his skin beneath her hands. Macy was back to feeling that deep intensity, almost overwhelming, almost too much, like Harry was part of her, and she was almost scared of what that meant, of how she could feel this much for one person, knowing that he felt the same for her.

She rocked her hips up to meet him, feeling him slide deeper, feeling the way he was getting a little quicker, a little jerkier, knowing that he was edging closer. She felt between her legs, thumbing her clit, and then Harry reached one hand between them to meet her, and she came gasping, her teeth sinking into Harry’s shoulder. He grunted and spilled inside her, murmuring her name, and Macy wanted to do this again and again and again, wanted to do it forever, wanted to never leave this bed.

But Harry was pulling out of her, and she didn’t want him to but knew he kind of had to, and that she’d be glad he had when her higher functions were working normally again. After tossing the condom into the trash, Harry gave her a thorough kiss and lay down beside her. Macy pulled the covers up over their legs and grinned at him.

She touched his neck. “Sorry. I think that’s gonna leave a mark. Did it hurt?”

He laughed. “Macy, I was hardly in the right mind to notice, but I’m obviously okay with it.”

“Right.” She tried to be actually sorry and realized she just… wasn’t. “How long do you think we can stay in here before my sisters start to wonder?”

“I imagine they won’t be eager to interrupt.”

“True.” Macy paused. “But do you think they’ll eat all the scones?”

She really, really loved Harry’s laugh.

**_End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I watched that sweet, sweet scene like a million times and then... I wrote porn. I'm sorry?


End file.
